Flunking Sainthood

Twenty Years Married . . . Really?

Twenty years ago today, I stood at the altar and married my best friend. It was a beautiful candlelight evening wedding that we put together on a shoestring budget of $2,000. (Two thousand dollars for the entire wedding and cake-and-punch reception: Even in 1991, that was some serious frugality.)

We held the wedding in a Presbyterian church in the town I grew up in. You knew it was a Swedish town because the photographer, the florist, the cake decorator, and the dry cleaner who preserved my dress were all named Anderson, and they were not related to each other.

But we all know that beautiful weddings are a dime a dozen, and beautiful marriages are spotted owls. A loving and supportive marriage has made many other beautiful things possible in my life, and I’m not quite sure how I got so ridiculously lucky. So much of it is luck. A fair portion is also choosing the right partner in the beginning, and holding hands as you weather your inevitable storms.

One of our traditions is that each year for our anniversary, we decide together to buy something for the household rather than trying to find individual gifts for each other. Since our anniversary falls immediately after Christmas, we’re always sick to death of shopping for just the right present, so we do the joint gift. Last year, we bought a dual-control electric blanket, which is about six different kinds of awesome. This year, since it was the big 2-0, we splurged on commissioning a kitchen pantry that matches our other cabinets. I won’t tell you how much it cost, except to say that it was almost exactly the price of our entire damn wedding.

Since I’m a writer, I wish I could come up with something lovely that communicates what I want to say about this anniversary (other than “It’s been 20 years . . . Is that even possible?!). But anything I write myself is maudlin in the manner of an Anne Bradstreet poem. It all sounds like sentimental claptrap. I got nothin’.

What I keep returning to instead is this delightful short poem by Frances Shaw. I discovered it in college and it immediately made me think of Phil. I loved it so much I had it printed in our wedding bulletin:

To whom I owe the leaping delight
That quickens my senses in our wakingtime
And the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime,
The breathing in unison

Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other
Who think the same thoughts without the need of speech
And babble the same speech without need of meaning.

No peevish winter wind shall chill
No sullen tropic sun shall wither
The roses in the rose-garden which is ours and ours only

But this dedication is for others to read:
These are private words addressed to you in public. T.S. Eliot

Jana Riess

This is a beautiful poem. Thank you.

http://AddaURLtothiscomment PLTK

Congratulations! I was always pleased we got away with about $3,000 (in 1993), but you did very well! I never understood spending so much money on a wedding–at least not on all the fancy frills.

Love the poems–both yours and Sally’s.

http://AddaURLtothiscomment Jessica

I just found you blog, my husband and I got married 10 years to the day after you. And that was one frugal wedding

Previous Posts

Another blog to enjoy!!!Thank you for visiting Flunking Sainthood. This blog is no longer being updated. Please enjoy the archives. Here is another blog you may also enjoy:
Fellowship of Saints and Sinners
Happy Reading!!!

Thank You, Flunking Sainthood Readers!OK, I admit it. I have a Google Alert on the title Flunking Sainthood, so that the search engine lets me know when there are new reviews or discussions about the book. In the last few weeks it has been exciting -- and humbling -- to see the many different kinds of people who are reading and talking

NYC Conference on Mormonism & American Politics, February 3-4"First Mitt won Iowa, then he lost Iowa? That's a classic Romney flip-flop."
--Stephen Colbert
Working with the theory that there hasn't been nearly enough attention to Mormonism and politics this year, what with it being in the news every single day and all, Randy Balmer and I